Friday, October 14, 2005

whineage.

As much as one can reconcile oneself to the womanly lot by reading George Eliot during one's time of month - it is the onset of a really buzzing cold and headache that makes you believe in the principle of evil.

I feel, to paraphrase my hero Blackadder, like a cowpat from the devil's own satanic herd.

But not to make this completely whiny: Harold Pinter has won the Nobel Prize. Now I never felt it necessary to actually read Pinter when we were studying him last year, so I can't comment. But I hate the fact that Orhan Pamuk might go the Salman Rushdie way. He really doesn't deserve to; he isn't half as silly. And he's twice as cute.

Blog comes with all disclaimers to the effect that Rushdie is actually the love of one's life and one wants nothing more than to be reading Midnight's Children and Haroun for the first time all over again, etc etc.

To work now. Head going buzz buzz even after unloading of literary opinion. I had the hugest crush on Vikram Seth in my early teens.

current musix: eric clapton - before you accuse me (take a look at yourself)

2 comments:

  1. Awww... feel better..
    *Mental noteto self: must stop procrastinating and read midnights children*

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  2. Thank you.

    And when reading Midnight's Children, remember to stick through the first 120 pages even if you think it's going to make you die. After that everything just sucks you in and before you know it, three days will have whizzed past and you'll be sitting unwashed and nailbitten in bed. at least, that's what happened to me. :D :D

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